


Sanity for Freedom

by MadiMay



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Ash - Freeform, Blood, Blood and Violence, Character Death, F/F, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fire, Gen, Inspired by the song Firebirds child, Madness, Magic, Mild Gore, Multi, Sort of like the meanads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2019-06-30 06:36:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15746280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadiMay/pseuds/MadiMay
Summary: A short ficlet I came up with inspired by the song the Firebirds Child. In which my character get beat up by her partner and trades her sanity for freedom and the ability to a maybe Fae maybe god woman. Draw your own conclusions. Enjoy!





	Sanity for Freedom

Mara sighed as she rested her head on her knees, eyes closed tight as she tried to breath. Gods she just wanted to be free. Free of her  job, of her stifling, aggressive boyfriend, of the family she knew she should love. Guilt scored her inside, but so did a restless need to be elsewhere. And hell if it wasn’t tempting.

Her arms squeezed tighter around her legs, and Mara turned her head, resting her knee on her knees as she gazed into the forest blindly. A hitching, celtic melody invaded Mara’s mind, slithering past her thoughts, filling her mind. Every muscle relaxed, and for a moment, a single, fleeting moment, Mara felt free. Like she could bound to her feet and flee into the forest and never have a care in the world again.

But just as quickly as it had come, the melody vanished, and Mara was left suddenly wondering where she’d heard that song, an why it had made her feel so. A deep shuddering, breath, and then she stood, taking quick, long strides towards her house.

 

Mara was sat on the bench outside her house two nights later. The night was cool and dark, and it had to be well after 2 am. The fire crackled softly, the once roaring thing dim and gentle in the light and heat it cast now.

Mara hummed to herself, mind turning over the strange melody in her mind as she did, the one which had invaded her thoughts and dreams since the other day in the woods. 

Mara shook her head, forcing herself to let it go. It was probably something she’d heard once on the radio or something. She shouldn’t let it consumer her as it was.

Mara bit her lip and stopped humming. But the humming didn’t stop.

Slowly Mara looked up, eyes wide, and spotted a woman across the fire, long hair the same hue as the flames danced around her shoulders in a breeze Mara couldn’t feel. She was dressed in a short tunic and tall boots, slim shoulders relaxed, but her coal-black eyes were startlingly intense as she gazed at Mara.

Mara frowned, leaning forward. She should feel afraid. She knew she should. There was a strange woman before her, on her property, at night, who had appeared out of nowhere. She should be terrified, running for the phone and screaming to wake her boyfriend.

But she didn’t. She felt completely and utterly safe in this woman’s presence.

So she asked softly, “Who are you?”   
The woman smiled, and took a confident step forward. Directly into the fire-pit.

Mara’s eyes widened, “No, don’t-”   
She was cut off as the fire roared to life,engulfing the woman who smiled serenely, “Call the fire when you’re ready.”

And then she was gone.”

Mara’s breath heaved, eyes wide as she stared at the fire, now only smoldering embers. Mara startled when the fire popped, scrambling backwards off her bench and turning to run into the house.

 

Mara should have left. She knew she should have left. Her boyfriend had been growing worse, more aggressive, more angry. But she’d never thought he would hurt her. Gods she’d been wrong.

And now she was locked in a closet as he hammered at the door screaming, and she could feel blood pooling under her. She was so dizzy.

Slowly, an idea dawned, creeping into her brain, and her hand slipped into her pocket, clasping around the lighter she found there.

The woman had said to summon the fire. And gods she needed someone now.

So Mara clicked the lighter, and held it under the hoodie beside her. It caught quickly, and Mara knew, she knew, one way or another, she would watch this place burn.

Her skin was flushed from heat, she was sweating and coughing on smoke when she came.

The woman was suddenly beside her, her hand burning hotter than the fire on her arm, but without the pain.

“Will you make the trade?”

Mara asked though a smoke roughened voice, “What trade?”

“Your life here, your sanity, for freedom and the joy of fire.”

Mara nodded quickly, “Yes, yes I will make the trade.”

The woman smiled, carded a hand through Mara’s hair, and kissed her.

Mara floundered for a moment, before she eased into the kiss, hands coming to rest on the woman's hips, pulling her close, and kissing back.

This kiss was unlike anything she’d felt before. Hot and consuming and burning her from the inside out, burning Mara away into someone else. Something else.

When the woman pulled away, she threw out her hand, and the door burst from its hinges. There he was. Her soon to be dead boyfriend.

The woman led her forward, “You are Hestia now. We protect our own. If you want a crack at him before your new sisters arrive, now would be the time.”

Hestia felt flaming vengeance and fury rise in her as she strode forward to kill him, the melody of the woman in her mind as she did.

The woman watched with satisfaction as her newest follower succumbed to her base desires, leaping upon the male who had almost killed her, fingers clawing, teeth ripping, screaming and jabbing and kicking as the man screamed and fought back and struggled to get away.

It didn’t work. It never did. The first burst of insanity and rage in her followers was always the strongest, and the men that drove them to her never survived long enough for their new sisters to help.

The woman leaned  back against a burning wall, willing the fire to spread further and faster and hotter as she watched.

She grinned proudly as Hestia found the man's throat with her teeth and bit down through flesh and muscle and sinew and bone, tearing a mouthful free and spitting it out before delving the fingers of her hands into the opening, ripping and tearing, blood and gore spurting.

The man had long stopped moving, but Hestia did not. She ripped and tore and bit. She cupped his blood and let it pour from her hands down her face and neck and chest, let it mat in her hair and painted streaks across her arms.

She stripped down to her flesh, and began ripping him open anew, all but crawling inside of him with the need to wear her first kill.

Gods above, this one would be powerful. And fun.

Still, the woman stood, and with a flick of her hand, she had the ash of her fire in her palms.

“Come here.”

Hestia did as told, and the woman began smearing ash across the tacky blood, her skin, her hair, her back. And then she leaned forward and kissed her forehead.

As women began filtering through the fire and the still burning house, Hestia beamed, and the woman grinned, before she allowed her followers to strip her and apply blood and ash to her as well.

Then, all bare, all dirtied with their kills and cleansed by the fire, they stood in the flames, and screamed together. Slowly, their din shifted to song and back again.

And as one they turned away from the carnage, and walked out of the house and into the forest. Together the roamed. They would stop at night to share love and bask in flame. And then they would hunt for their next victims.


End file.
